


okay.

by yojin (MnM_PD)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, oikawa just left for argentina, vent fic, word vomit @ 12am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MnM_PD/pseuds/yojin
Summary: why is genuine love harder to bear than superficial ones?
Relationships: Futakuchi Kenji/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	okay.

Futakuchi struggles to find the words to explain it. There’s nothing inside his head; nothing right, nothing wrong, nothing that made sense at all. There’s just a constant ringing inside his skull that differs its volume from time to time, and he has been able to reduce it to a minimum but at times, the chemicals in his brain get better control of himself than his consciousness.

Right now it was a dull, and loud sound. It made everything else hard to hear, hard to perceive, hard to comprehend. It was a numbing feeling.

It’s always like this for him. Instead of feeling hurt after a misfortune, he would just shrug it off and look forwards to walk away from it, not acknowledging whatever it was. It has become a habit, but now more of an instinctual response.

He never knows what was wrong exactly, he just knew something was, but if he decides not to investigate what it was, then he could play the ignorant fool and pretend it never existed at all.

He got so used to this—faking it, just taking it, shoving it away without addressing it, and covering it all up. It has been his whole life. He got used to being allowed to do that routine. He got comfortable with it that when someone came in and told him the things somebody should have told him years ago when it still wasn’t too late, he couldn’t bear it.

 _Take care. Drink water. I’m worried about you._ Oikawa told him.

These sentences were simple. They’re not a poem, they’re not a beautifully worded way to confess one’s love or a novel way of telling somebody you care about them, but it meant a lot to Futakuchi. It bore so much depth that dug deep into his chest and into the gaps of his ribcage, filling his lungs with a new kind of oxygen, crawling its way up into his left atrium and making his heart produce an exited pounding, creating a rhythm he never felt before and one that he still could not tell whether it was pleasant or frightening.

Because of this confusion, his heart simply shook in its place, not truly beating and pumping blood to flow into his veins. He felt suffocated, he couldn’t breathe, he was utterly overwhelmed.

He wanted to reach out to Oikawa—to touch him, hold him, kiss him, let him know how much he means to Futakuchi before he lets go of everything and fades away, but he couldn’t. Oikawa was in Argentina, and they could only rely on words typed on gadgets and sent through the internet to let each other know how they feel, how they think, how they are.

There was an ache in his soul that he knows he couldn’t and would never be able to get rid of until he was blessed by Oikawa’s presence again.

But that’s the thing about beings one deemed to be holy, people that represented hope, humans that embodied the light in your dark path—they’re terrifyingly beautiful, and Futakuchi couldn’t help but wonder how undeserving he is to be doused in Oikawa’s kindness, and how he’s sure he would make a mistake somewhere down the line.

One night in particular where Futakuchi was drowning in every single thing that was happening in his life whether it may be good things or bad things, Oikawa sent him a message.

It was a positive message. It was something he was grateful to have received. Something he needed to hear, but it was too much. He doesn’t know how to face happiness, doesn’t know what joy should feel like, doesn’t know how to act when you’re thankful because all he knew was how to complain, be petty and act like a jerk.

Oikawa called him that night because he couldn’t respond. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to type a reply, but he still answered the call because he wanted to hear Oikawa’s voice.

Oikawa asked him how he was and he answered with obvious lies, but he still did anyway.

When they stopped talking for some seconds, Futakuchi’s anxiety skyrocketed, but then he heard Oikawa say these four words.

_Hey, I love you._

Futakuchi sobbed that night. He sobbed, and for the first time in a while, he was reminded of how multiple teardrops could roll down your cheeks, that your nose gets stuffy and numb as you cry, and how your eyes feel puffy after it.

Futakuchi sobbed because he was scared—so, _so_ fucking scared of losing whatever this was because he knew, deep in his heart, that somewhere down the line, he _would_ fuck this up even if he tries not to.

But maybe he prefers if to be that way.

**Author's Note:**

> if u know, u know.


End file.
